


Two Wrongs Make a Right

by Hannaadi88



Series: Written on Request [3]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Bodyguard!Alfred, M/M, Mafia AU, UKUS, mafia boss!arthur
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-11
Updated: 2017-05-11
Packaged: 2018-10-30 17:20:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10881429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hannaadi88/pseuds/Hannaadi88
Summary: The one in which Alfred accidentally sends a dick pic to his boss and lives to tell the tale.





	Two Wrongs Make a Right

Alfred probably shouldn't have gone drinking with a revolver in his back pocket. See, alcohol and guns? Not the best combo, and he'd be the first to admit to it. But his week had been tough and Gilbert made a good case when he'd invited him to join the gang for some beers.

And as Alfred never left the house unarmed, the gun tagged along to the bar. He'd be damned if he let himself get shot that one time he was trying to unwind.

To be fair, he probably shouldn't have gone drinking at all. Or at least not with Gilbert and his friends. Everyone knew that Gilbert, Francis and Antonio were risky drinking buddies. Sure, they were top notch professionals at what they did. But together?

Alfred really should've known better.

"C'mon kiddo, you gotta give yourself a break. One more won't kill ya."

Alfred shook his head resolutely.

"No way! I've already had too many. What if I'm called? You can't aim if you're drunk."

"Wait," Francis interrupted, eyes blown wide with shock. "You're saying you're incapacitated after a few drinks?"

Alfred's mouth felt dry despite the beer he'd just finished only a minute before. "I- yeah? Isn't…isn't everyone?"

Francis pursed his lips and sat back in his chair. "This is serious. He can't be counted on to cover the boss's back like this."

"What? No!" Alfred looked around the table frantically, searching for some sign that it was all just a joke. It was becoming more and more difficult to breathe as all he saw were severe faces looking back at him.

"Nobody ever said anything about drunk shooting! I can totally be counted on! I swear, I'll never drink again—"

His companions' frowns wavered before disappearing completely in a bout of laughter. Alfred felt his ears grow warm as Gilbert clapped his back with a wide smile.

"Aw, take it easy, Alfred. We're just messing with ya."

Alfred blinked back the tears of humiliation, refusing to let them see how much their words got to him. In truth, he was just a bit mortified that a little teasing was enough to upset him so much. If he was so easily brought to tears, what kind of bodyguard was he?

He pushed Gilbert's arm away with a scowl.

"Not funny, guys. You know how much this job means to me."

Antonio, who was one of the seniors in Alfred's team, slid a shot of tequila across the table and nodded at him.

"Here, this one's on me. It's important to be dedicated to your job, but you should remember to let yourself relax when you're off the clock. Destressing makes you a better guard."

Antonio had a sunny disposition that made it difficult for others to take him seriously. When you smile and have the reputation of being an airhead, nobody expects you to excel. But Antonio had made it very clear early on in his career that there was no one better to rely on when you were in trouble. He proved himself by spotting a sharpshooter in position before he was able to take a shot at the boss.

Antonio's smile was rather unnerving when he pulled out his gun. Alfred heard him say once that he liked being underestimated.

Unnerving or not, Alfred knew that if he needed backup, Antonio would be there to save his ass. And in their field, there was nothing more important than being there for each other.

Alfred looked down at the offered glass with a sheepish smile. In a way, he looked up to the guy. How many times had he been ridiculed or told that he wouldn't go far with his childlike optimism and obnoxious sense of humor? But there was Antonio, the boss's preferred bodyguard, who was renowned for his infectious laughter. If Antonio could reach the top, why couldn't he?

The fact that he was accepted by the team was a dream come true and the ultimate 'fuck-you' to his instructors. Alfred wanted to give it his all, to show the boss that he'd made the right choice. He couldn't…he just couldn't screw it up. This was the chance he'd worked his ass off the past four years for.

But maybe Antonio was right. Maybe he was taking himself too seriously.

"Thanks," he mumbled before closing his eyes and throwing back the shot. He tried not to make a face as the alcohol burned his throat, but going by the cackling around him he must've wrinkled his nose or something. Alfred opened his eyes and grinned, resigning himself to an eventful evening.

If only he'd known how eventful it'd be.

The few beers he promised to stop at turned into an assortment of shots and glasses that Alfred didn't know the names of. Some were tall and colorful. Those usually turned out to be fruity. Others came in shot glasses like the tequila and though there'd only be enough for a few sips, those would leave Alfred's head spinning. His companions kept ordering for him more and more and Alfred couldn't care less because, hey, he wasn't paying. Francis even got him to try one of his wines, but it was too dry for him to finish the whole glass.

"Sooo, Alfie," Gilbert slurred his words after his fifth drink. "Does ya girlfrien' love ya enough to deal with how shitfaced you're gonna be tomorrow mornin'?"

Alfred snorted on his drink and groaned. Alcohol up your nose was really painful.

"Nah, man. I don't have a girlfriend."

"Boyfriend?"

Alfred shook his head. "M'single."

Francis clucked his tongue and gave Alfred a very obvious once-over. "How can someone so attractive not be taken?"

"Speak for yourself, Franny."

Francis frowned and shot Gilbert a sharp look. "If you call me that one more time, I swear to God—"

"I dunno," Alfred was quick to intervene. "Guess I just haven't found someone yet."

Antonio cocked his head. "No one?"

"Well…" Alfred bit his lip. "There was this girl I had a crush on in high school…"

"Aha!" Gilbert practically jumped out of his seat. "There you go!"

Antonio ignored his friend and continued to look at Alfred curiously. "What happened?"

Alfred shrugged. His head was feeling so light, he was afraid it might fall off. "She had a boyfriend. By the time she broke up with him we already graduated and I was too busy with training."

"Well then, now would be a good time to reconnect," Francis declared, raising his glass with a look of conviction. "Rekindle old flames!"

Alfred would be lying if he didn't find the idea somewhat appealing.

"Yeah! You should totally call her! Text her! Send her a friend request! Poke her—"

"I'm pretty sure nobody sends pokes anymore, Gilbert."

"Ah, who the fuck cares," Gilbert waved Francis off and pushed back from the table. "I need to pee."

Though his vision was beginning to swim, Alfred jumped out of his chair and caught Gilbert as the man swayed on his feet. Gilbert swung his arm over his shoulder undeterred, as if he'd expected to have someone carry half his weight from the start.

"Make sure he doesn't fall asleep in the urinal!" Francis called out. Alfred staggered for a moment as Gilbert insisted on flipping his friend off.

"That was _one_ time," he muttered as Alfred dragged him to the bathroom. Shuddering at the thought, Alfred pushed the door open and hauled Gilbert into the men's room. He didn't need to worry, though- all the urinals were taken.

"Stall it is," he said cheerfully as Gilbert rolled his eyes and stumbled into one without bothering to close the door behind him. Alfred quickly did it for him before the room was treated to an unwanted eyeful.

Leaning against the stall as he waited, Alfred let his mind wander. Did he really want to hit on his old crush? Well, yeah, why the hell not. The real question was how. He still had her number from school and it hadn't been all that long ago…maybe he should call. Ask her out. Send flowers to her door.

Wait, scratch that. Maybe not that last one. Not yet, anyway.

"…y'know," Gilbert called out to him, continuing a conversation Alfred hadn't been aware they'd been having. "Callin' is for geezers. And flowers? Seriously, dude?"

Shit. He'd been speaking out loud?

"Hell yeah you are. You're fuckin' wasted, my man."

Alfred covered his eyes with his hands and groaned.

"Seriously, if you're so worried you can just do what I always do."

"And what's that?"

"Show her the merchandise, bro."

Alfred lowered his hands, his brow wrinkled in confusion. Some of the men at the urinals were snickering. What was so funny?

"Huh?"

"Your junk. Lil' Alfred. Your jewels."

Alfred was beginning to get the idea. If his face hadn't been flushed from the alcohol before, it certainly was now.

"Are you fucking serious?"

"Hey, don't diss the dick pics," Gilbert insisted. There was a rustle of fabric and the sound of a zipper, quickly followed by a rather loud flushing sound. Alfred stepped away just in time to avoid tripping as Gilbert left his stall.

What he wasn't quick enough for, however, was to avoid being grabbed and pushed into the stall. Alfred stumbled, narrowly avoiding falling face-first into the toilet seat before turning around and trying to push the door open.

Unfortunately, Gilbert was leaning heavily against the door, blocking him from leaving.

"Cut it out, Gilbert! This isn't funny!"

"Nope!" Gilbert sang from the other side of the door. "I'm not lettin' you out 'till you try it."

Alfred grit his teeth. "I'm _not_ sending her a dick pic."

"Then I'm _not_ opening the door."

"Gilbert!"

"Alfred!"

Alfred cried out in frustration and tried the door again, but it simply wouldn't budge.

"I hate you."

Gilbert cackled and started knocking against the door in what could only be the worst beat Alfred had ever heard. "You can thank me later, kid."

Fuming, Alfred turned around and pulled his phone out of his pocket. He could feel his gun in the back and contemplated pulling it out instead but decided against it. If something happened to Gilbert, Antonio would make sure that hurting him would be the last thing Alfred did.

He sighed as he lowered the lid and seated himself down on the toilet, fumbling with his jeans and underwear. It was probably the alcohol, but by the time Alfred pulled his dick out and held it in his palm, the idea wasn't so daunting anymore.

There was just…something about the fact that he was stroking himself in public that made his breath hitch. It usually took him a full minute to get hard, but damn, he was fully erect in just a few seconds.

This was something he'd have to further explore at another time. Right now, there was a picture he needed to take.

Alfred's hands shook a little as he turned his camera on and lowered his phone between his legs. He wasn't quite sure which angle to go for (from the top? The front?) so he ended up taking a few, his left hand continuing to stroke as his right struggled to press the correct buttons.

By the time he came and cleaned himself up, he had a number of choice pictures to choose from. Alfred's face burned as he scrolled through his gallery, wondering which one to use.

"I don't have all night, Alfred!"

"Just a sec!" Alfred snapped, finally settling on one and quickly going through his contacts list. "You're the one who wanted me to do this, so you're just gonna have to wait!"

He was going to have to send it soon, though, before he lost his nerve. Alfred searched for A, AR…there! 'Arline'!

Alfred wrote a few lines and made sure to add a winking face before hitting 'send'. He made sure he saw the check sign that appeared once the message had been successfully sent before turning the screen off and stuffing his phone back in his pocket. By the time he tucked himself back into his pants and zipped his jeans, Gilbert was in the middle of trying to sing Beethoven. Seeing that there were no words, he wasn't very successful.

When he tried the door this time, it opened without a hitch.

"Didya do it?"

Alfred pushed by Gilbert and crossed the room to wash his hands. The man continued to pester him even as they left the bathroom, but Alfred refused to fess up. At least not verbally. It was pretty obvious by his permanent blush that he had.

The rest of the night was more or less of a blur and by the time the Uber left him off at his place, Alfred had to force himself up the stairs to his dingy little apartment and into his bed. Trivial things like taking off his clothes and showering could wait until the morning.

His neighbors' loud arguing was as the last thing he could remember before drifting off to much-needed sleep.

 

 

 

.x.

 

 

Just like every other morning, Alfred woke to the The Cab shouting about angels and shotguns. He groaned and blindly reached over to his bedside table to grope for his phone, but his hand came up with nothing. He then came to the conclusion that the music was coming from his ass.

Alfred reached back with a sigh and yanked his phone out of his back pocket. He squinted at the bright screen and swiped off his alarm. Once that was done he dropped the awful contraption on the bed and slowly sat up.

His head was _killing_ him.

Alfred swore never to go drinking again as he pulled off his clothes and headed straight into the shower. He felt gross, his head was about to explode and his mouth was awfully dry. Alfred didn't bother putting on anything more than a towel around his hips before downing two cups of water and an Advil. His usual coffee and bowl of Cocoa Pebbles would have to wait for him to feel human again.

Sitting back down on the edge of his bed, Alfred reached for his phone and unlocked it. It was only when he saw a message notification that the events of the previous night came back to him with a crippling blow.

 _Fuck_ , Alfred stared at his screen in horror. _Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck._

Why the hell had he thought that sending Arline a dick pic would be a good idea? She was the nice girl that used to sit in front of him in math class. She used to help him with parabolas. Fuck. She didn't deserve a drunken close-up of his dick.

It took him a few minutes to muster the courage to open the message. When he finally did, though, what he read didn't make any sense.

_Report immediately to my office._

Alfred frowned. Office? That didn't sound right. Maybe this wasn't a response to his picture? Alfred scrolled up- nope, there it was. Alfred cringed.

Dread pooled in his stomach as he realized that the only other option was that he'd sent the picture to the wrong person. He held his breath as his eyes wandered to the name of the contact at the top of the conversation.

**Arthur the boss man**

Alfred promptly dropped his phone onto the bed and rushed to the bathroom to empty the contents of his stomach in his very own porcelain goddess.

 

 

.x.

 

 

"I trust you know why I summoned you, Alfred?"

Alfred swallowed thickly and kept his gaze firmly on the blue carpeting of Arthur's office. He knew that his face was pale and that even his suit, still new, wouldn't be enough to make up for how horrible he looked. He was hungover, mortified and scared. He'd tried to tame his hair for a precious few minutes in front of the mirror before rushing over, but he knew a lost cause when he saw one.

This wasn't how he ever wanted to appear to his boss, but there he was, sitting in front of Arthur's desk with his head hung low.

At least he wasn't late. Everyone knew how much of a stickler Mr. Kirkland was about being on time. It was a lucky fluke, really. Arthur had sent him that text only five minutes before he woke up. Alfred wasn't properly awake and he hadn't shaved, but at least he'd reached Arthur's office within the hour.

It was all he could do to keep a straight face and not burst into tears. Oh, he knew why he was there- he was going to be fired, point blank.

Honestly? He deserved it. People who sent dick pics didn't get to work for Mr. Kirkland, at least not directly. Arthur was a corporate gang leader, not a sleazebag.

Mr. Kirkland's father was the one who paid for Alfred's education. The Kirkland family was responsible for giving him the opportunities to work towards his achievements. To have disrespected the person he owed most of his life to was pretty high on Alfred's 'not to do' list.

The fact that Arthur was the head of an organization that didn't shy away from doing whatever it took to get things done…well. That wasn't doing anything for Alfred's blood pressure. He didn't think Mr. Kirkland would bother with someone as insignificant as him, but then again, he was one of his bodyguards. He'd worked enough shifts to know that Arthur wasn't someone you wanted to cross.

With his luck, Alfred honestly shouldn't have been surprised that he ended up sending his boss a picture of his dick.

"I…yes, sir. I do," Alfred swallowed thickly as he tried to find the words. "I accidentally sent you a picture of my, well, y'know. My thing."

He couldn't look at him. Never in his life had Alfred thought that he'd bring up his genitalia in a conversation with Mr. Kirkland. But there was a sharp intake of breath and Alfred's reflexes made him look up, despite himself. He was trained to look for every little sign that his boss was in trouble.

What he saw startled him.

Mr. Kirkland was, overall, a composed person. He couldn't have been all that older than Alfred, perhaps five years or so, but he carried himself with all the pride and practicality of a middle-aged man. Very rarely did his expression betray his true feelings. Whether he was pleased or pissed off, it was difficult to tell the difference just going by his face. Even now, Arthur had called him into his office without the slightest indication that he was in any way affected by the situation.

But the wide green eyes and furrowed brow were a far cry from a blank poker face. There was nothing neutral about the way Arthur pursed his lips. Alfred hadn't noticed them when he'd walked in (which was another failing of his, he was supposed to notice _everything_ ), but there were two shot glasses and a bottle of bourbon on the desk. Arthur had apparently been in the middle of pouring a drink when he'd asked his question.

Which was rather odd in and of itself. Alfred had only ever seen Arthur serve drinks during his meetings with other chief executives and political figures. Why was he filling two glasses?

"Accidentally…?" Arthur echoed, sounding a little faint. Alfred eagerly latched onto it.

"Yes, sir! Accidentally! I swear I didn't mean to send you anything like that! It was a mistake, I—"

"So what you're saying," Arthur cut him off, sitting back in his seat, "is that your picture wasn't meant for me?"

"Nooo," Alfred shook his head. "Not at all, sir. I'm so sorry that you had to see it."

Alfred realized that he had set his arms on the desk and leaned forward in his enthusiasm. Flushing, he quickly folded his hands in his lap and stat straight in his chair. When he looked back up at Arthur, he felt himself being scrutinized.

A few seconds of uncomfortable silence passed before Arthur cleared his throat.

"I see…well, then. Tell me, Alfred- what did you think was going to happen when I asked you to come?"

Alfred blinked. Maybe he was better off with an uncomfortable silence than with an uncomfortable question.

"Um…I guess I thought you were going to yell and…fire me?"

For the first time since he'd started to work for the Kirkland family, Alfred was treated to one of Arthur's smiles directed solely at him. He tried not to be too dazzled.

"What if I tell you that you can keep your job?"

Alfred took a few moments to process the words.

"Wait, you're _not_ gonna fire me?"

Arthur tilted his head and shifted in his seat. Now that he was seeing it from a different angle, Alfred decided that it wasn't exactly a smile on Arthur's face- it was more of a smirk, really. A wide, lazy smirk.

He couldn't be sure if it was a good or a bad sign, but damn if it didn't make him feel hot under the collar.

"That depends," Arthur drawled. "By all means I have every reason to fire you, and I would have. Sending unsolicited photos isn't something I allow from my employees. However," he paused, meeting Alfred's gaze. "I'm willing to let it slide, just this once."

"Really?" Alfred asked, hardly believing his luck. There must be some kind of catch, but being given the option to keep his job wasn't something he even thought of entertaining.

"Really," Arthur confirmed, voice smooth as silk. "Your contract will be revised, though."

Alfred shrugged. It made sense that he wouldn't be able to continue working for the Kirkland family without repercussions. Maybe he'd have to work more shifts a week, or perhaps he'd get a pay cut. None of that mattered to him. Not as long as he could keep doing what he'd worked so hard for.

"That's okay," he said quickly. Alfred didn't have any desire to linger on pleasantries when he could rush his way to the part where he gets to keep his job. "I don't mind."

Arthur raised a brow. "You don't?"

"Nope!"

"So if I told you, for example, that your new contract requires you to stay at my apartment at all times. You'd agree to that?"

Alfred nodded. It wasn't unheard of for bodyguards to live in their employer's homes. Arthur already had a live-in guard. Maybe it wasn't something Alfred had been aiming for but, hey, wouldn't that sort of be a promotion?

"And if I told you that you had to refrain from cultivating personal relationships with anyone outside the company?"

That…was a little more difficult, but most of Alfred's friends were already under the Kirkland umbrella. It made sense too, in a way. The higher up you were, the more of a target you became. Alfred wouldn't want to accidentally give away sensitive information or inadvertently endanger someone he cared for.

"I'd do it," Alfred cleared his throat. How long was Arthur going to test him?

"And if…" Arthur's lowered his gaze, his eyes lingering on Alfred's lips. He abruptly pushed away from his desk and stood up. Alfred's back stiffened as Arthur stopped behind his chair and settled his hands on his shoulders.

"And what if I told you," Arthur's voice was an octaves lower, sending a shiver down Alfred's spine, "that _you're_ the one who has to spread his pretty legs?"

It took a few seconds for Alfred's reeling mind to get the reference. Once it did, he felt his whole face burn with shame.

He'd said something about legs in his drunken message last night, didn't he? Oh, this was embarrassing.

"I-I'm sorry," Alfred tried to plow his way through it. "I guess I'm not the best with words when I'm wasted, haha…"

The grip on his shoulders tightened. Alfred almost jumped when he felt Arthur's breath on his ear.

"You didn't answer my question, Alfred."

Alfred's mouth felt dry. "Wait, you were serious?"

There were lips on Alfred's earlobe and he was starting to forget how to breathe.

"Is that a yes?"

Alfred was confused, a little scared and very much aroused. It was a rather conflicting combination to say the least. On the one hand, here was an intelligent, wealthy and really handsome guy who just happened to be his boss insinuating that he actually _wanted_ Alfred. On the other hand, what if this was a test? Was he supposed to say yes and prove his loyalty? Or was he supposed to have a higher moral standard and say no?

As usual, his mouth worked faster than his brain, making his decision for him.

"…yeah, I guess."

The weight on his shoulders lifted and the lips on his ear were momentarily gone, only to be slotted firmly against his own. Alfred did jump a little this time but Arthur's grip on his chin kept him in place. It was only when he tried to raise his hands to wrap around Arthur's neck that he realized that he, well, couldn't.

Alfred broke the kiss and narrowed his eyes as he tried again. It didn't take a genius to understand that the metallic clinking and cold rings around his wrists meant that his hands had been shackled behind the chair.

"Wha-?"

"It's your fault for not paying attention," Arthur said mildly as he came to stand in front of him. "It's my turn. You showed me yours, now I'll show you mine."

Alfred's eyes widened as Arthur's fingers grazed the front of his own pants before nimbly unbuckling his belt and yanking down the zipper. The cock he pulled out was thick and half-hard.

Alfred's breath hitched.

Men, women- Alfred didn't have much of a preference. A nice rack did it for him as much as a nice dick. And Arthur's dick…it was _very_ nice. Almost nice enough to make him forget about how absurd the whole situation was.

Almost.

"Wait, hold on a sec," Alfred's pulse quickened but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't pull his eyes away from the cock in front of him, which was currently being stroked. "I don't think—"

Arthur's free hand reached out and grasped his jaw none too gently.

"You agreed to spread your legs," Arthur reminded him. His cheeks were a little flushed. "You're an attractive man, Alfred. I'm willing to let you make up for your little mistake. If you'd rather stop…"

"No!" Alfred insisted. He met Arthur's gaze with determination. "I'll do it."

Arthur's stern frown softened into a grin.

"Very well. Open up."

Alfred opened his jaw obediently and braced himself as Arthur guided himself into his mouth. He was heavy and warm and was kind of…salty. Not too different from the other cocks he'd had the pleasure of sucking.

"You don't need instructions, do you?"

Alfred rolled his eyes and closed his lips around Arthur's flesh, giving it a long, strong suck. Arthur's fingers relaxed their grip on Alfred's jaw as he started to move his head, bobbing it back and forth. He closed his eyes and focused on the way he could feel the veins brushing against the roof of his mouth.

"That's it," Arthur mumbled as his fingers passed by the side of Alfred's face to settle on the back of his neck. "Good boy."

Alfred's ears burned but he continued to move, trying his best to fit as much of Arthur as he could in his mouth without his hands to aid him. He tried not to think too hard about what he was doing and let instinct take over.

An hour ago he'd be nervous about sending his boss a text. Now he had Arthur's cock down his throat. He wasn't quite sure how he felt about it, but excitement laced every suck and bob. His own length was already straining in his pants.

He'd always been a slut for praise. And from Arthur? Well, damn. It didn't get any better than that.

The hand on the back of his neck settled itself on his head and suddenly pushed him down forcefully. Alfred gagged and his eyes began to water as Arthur's cock hit the back of his throat. His own dick was still hard despite the discomfort. Or maybe it was swelling because of it?

Alfred didn't know and he didn't have the time to care because Arthur was holding him in place as he fucked his mouth. Alfred continued to squeeze his eyes shut but his ears were rewarded with a delicious mix of grunts, gasps and deep groans. His lips were chapped as usual and were probably going to split but, hey. Worth it.

He didn't get much of a warning before Arthur pulled out of his mouth and came, spraying his face. Alfred didn't open his eyes until he was sure it was over. He could feel Arthur's cum heavy on his eyelids and streaked across his cheeks and mouth. He caught Arthur's gaze and made a show of licking his lips before offering him a cheeky grin.

Arthur looked positively stricken.

"Soo…can I keep my job?"

Arthur blinked out of his daze and quickly tucked himself back into his pants. He crouched down to face-level with Alfred and brushed some of his seed off of his face with his thumb. He looked at it, considering, before pressing it to Alfred's lips. Alfred obliged.

"You'll have to go through additional training," Arthur said as Alfred sucked on his thumb, "but I think you'll do."

Alfred twirled his tongue on the pad of Arthur's thumb for a moment longer before releasing it with a wet 'pop'.

"Thank you, sir."

**Author's Note:**

> This piece was written on request.
> 
> First of all, I have to say that it was really fun working on this story! I haven't written for these two in a long long time and it was almost comforting how easy it was to slip back into it. I hope you all enjoyed :)


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